


ME3 - Picking Up the Pieces

by rprambles



Series: ME - Stages of Repair [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Arguing, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Reconciliation, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rprambles/pseuds/rprambles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again.”<br/>- Flavia Weedn</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Joker, set a course for the Citadel,” Shepard ordered as she strode into the CIC.

“ _More diplomatic meetings that require your input?_ ” the pilot asked.

“Volus,” she said in answer. The Council had been attempting to arrange the meeting for two weeks now, and each time they had a date something had come up. So when Traynor waved her over Shepard already knew what was coming.

“We just received a message from Terra Nova,” Traynor said. “They’ve got reports of Cerberus activity.”

The comms turned Joker’s sigh into a burst of static. “ _Why don’t we save time and tell the volus to just give us the fleets and we’ll talk about terms after the war’s over?_ ”

She shook her head. “Joker, stay on course. I’ll hop off at the Citadel, you take the Normandy and see what Cerberus is up to. When you’re done, come back and get me.”

“ _Aye, aye, Commander._ ”

“Any other messages, Traynor?”

“Just one on your terminal, Commander.”

Hira strode over to her terminal and tapped the message icon, her frown deepening as she read.

     To: cmdr-ashepard@normandy.sysalliance.exnet  
     From: max_shepard@citadel.exnet  
     Sub: This is awkward.

     So I broke my arm. I can’t fly for a few days, but I don’t want to stay at a hospital, I feel like I’d be taking up space there, and I let a family      take over my apartment until they can find a place of their own. Do you know of a place where I can stay for a few days?

     Max

It took her a long time to answer. She didn’t have the funds to get him into a hotel, and knew that his own work certainly didn’t pay enough. It wouldn’t kill him to stay in the hospital, but at the moment she didn’t care to start an argument with him. This left only one option, and she didn’t particularly care for it.

     To: max_shepard@citadel.net  
     From: cmdr-ashepard@normandy.sysalliance.exnet  
     Sub: RE: This is awkward.

     Silversun Strip, Tiberus Towers penthouse apartment. One week.

—

—

Max had never been to the Silversun Strip before, and the glamor of it floored him. Neon lights framing the streets, well-dressed crowds and fancy establishments. He felt alarmingly out-of-place and under-dressed. He pulled his jacket over his cast sheepishly, reminded himself that everyone was likely too absorbed in their own lives to notice him, and headed forward.

The apartment complex proved easy to find, and Max soon found himself in the elevator headed up. He took a deep breath in attempt to quell his nerves; he had no idea who to expect in that apartment and how much persuasion Anahira had to use to convince them to take in a civilian pilot for a few days.

He frowned at himself. Twenty years since he’d lived on an Alliance base and he still couldn’t shake military terms from his head. It was a bit comical, as he’d never been in the military himself.

Shaking his head, Max focused on what he was going to say to whoever lived in the apartment, practicing aloud. “Hello. No, good morning. My name is Maxwell Shepard, my daughter said that I could stay here for a few days. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

It sounded good to him. He repeated it, then sighed heavily and readjusted his grip on his suitcase. “Here’s hoping they don’t slam the door in my face.”

The lift halted and he stepped out into a short hallway with a dizzying view of the streets below. Max swallowed his nerves and walked to the door, setting down his suitcase so he could turn on the intercom. “Ah, good morning. My name is Maxwell-“

The door opened and he blinked at his daughter.

“Come on in.”

He stood there for a moment longer and then grabbed his luggage and followed her inside. The apartment was rather grand, and he caught himself turning in circles to take it all in. “This… is _your_ apartment?”

“Problem?” Anahira leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded.

“You could’ve told me.”

She shrugged. “Can always leave.”

“I didn’t…” Max paused, reconsidering his words. She was doing him a favor, the last thing he needed to do was start yet another argument with her. “Thank you. I appreciate this.”

She watched him expectantly for a moment. “Hm. Guest room’s upstairs on the right.”

Max headed up to the room and set his suitcase on the bed, trying not to marvel at everything as he put his week’s supply of necessities away. When he returned to the kitchen, Anahira was wrapping up a sandwich. “Are you on leave then?”

“Business, actually. Have a meeting in a few minutes.” She walked toward the door, but stopped after three strides as though remembering something. “Gonna be here all day?”

“No, I thought I might walk around, take in the sights.”

“Here.” She tapped her omnitool and his own lit up briefly. “Should help keep you out of trouble.”

Max frowned. “Me?”

“Yes, you. See you in a few hours.”

And with that she was gone. Max scratched at the bridge of his nose, uncertain whether he was relieved or disappointed. It was hardly surprising that she wouldn’t spend more time than necessary with him, given their history, but her dismissal of him still felt like a slap to the face.

 _It’s your own fault, old boy,_ he reminded himself, shaking his head. _But God, what I wouldn’t give to fix it._

He stood there for a few minutes longer, lost in regret, before finally snapping out of it. “Enough moping about. I have sights to see.”

The Citadel always fascinated Max, a blend of cultures and people living on a station that felt more like a never-ending city. He had a knack for getting lost in the bustle of the Wards; this never worried him too much, as a station VI terminal was always available for directions. When he finally returned to the apartment, it was with a comfortable ache in his feet and the location of a fine restaurant where he’d stopped for lunch.

Anahira glanced up from the kitchen as he entered, but said nothing in greeting. Max didn’t attempt conversation. He doubted it would end well, it never did for them. So he perched on one of the bar stools and watched her cook.

“So what happened?”

Max blinked, surprised. “Pardon?”

She pointed a wooden spoon at his cast. “Slip in the latrine, what?”

“Oh. No, nothing like that. I was helping some refugees with their luggage and fell trying not to trip over a little boy. Landed right on my wrist.”

“Hm. Nice and boring.”

He scowled, rather offended. “Yes, I imagine you have grand exploits behind your injuries. The life of a civilian must seem so dull to you.”

She didn’t respond to that, and it took Max a minute too long to realize he was being a poor guest. Before he could apologize, she set a plate of food in front of him and disappeared from the room with her own meal.

He hung his head, apology stuck in his throat. He would have preferred her anger, or irritation at the very least, but the only emotion she’d showed him was bored disinterest. As though she had better things to deal with. Which she likely did.

_And here you are being a first-rate arse. Well done._

Max sighed and tried to focus on making himself eat something, having suddenly lost his appetite.


	2. Chapter 2

Max stifled a yawn as he made his way to the kitchen. A throbbing in his arm had woken him at roughly two in the morning, and even after taking medication sleep had been fitful at best. He needed breakfast.

To his surprise, no one was in the kitchen. Had Anahira slept in, or had she already left? To be on the safe side, Max started the coffee maker for her. After last night’s outburst, he was determined to be a good guest for his host.

He’d just found the oatmeal when something grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to the floor. And then something exploded.

Max stayed where he’d fallen. A small part of him wondered if this was what shock felt like. Something poked his shoulder and he turned to see Anahira knelt beside him.

“You okay?”

He stared at her for a moment, and then his voice returned. “What the bloody hell was that?”

“Coffee maker.” She stood and punched a code into the wall console. How could she be so calm when something had just blown up in their faces?

“The coffee- wh-why did the coffee maker explode?!”

“Because my boyfriend rigged it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “He’s a bit crazy when it comes to home security.”

“Why would he-” The second Max stood upright the room tilted to the left. He made a grab for the counter, head swimming. “Oh, I…”

He was vaguely aware of being guided to a couch and directed to put his head between his knees and take deep breaths. He stayed that way until the clammy lightheaded feeling ebbed away, careful to sit up slowly. Anahira pressed a glass of orange juice into his hand; he sipped it and then frowned at her. “You have a boyfriend?”

Anahira sighed.

“First of all, who is he? Second, why did he rig the coffee pot to explode?”

“Because people tend to want me dead and he was worried about my safety. Coffee pot wasn’t the only thing he rigged.”

Max sat up sharply, heart jumping in his chest. “You mean this entire apartment-“

“No, just carefully selected bits of it.”

He decided his daughter was truly insane. He sank back into the couch and sipped his juice. “You didn’t answer the first question,” he realized.

“Don’t plan to.”

“You don’t think that’s a little rude?“

She snorted. “My life is none of your damn business.”

"What if I’d like to know more about my own child?"

"Had me fooled."

Max set his glass down a little harder than necessary. “Why do you always bring that up?”

“Continues to be relevant,” she answered coolly.

He jumped to his feet when she turned away. This conversation wasn’t finished. “Has it ever crossed your mind that I might regret that?“

She shrugged. “Don’t see why I should give a damn, actually.”

“Then why let me stay here?”

“Can still leave.”

He scowled, anger and hurt boiling in his gut. “…Perhaps I should.”

Anahira made no move to stop him as he stormed upstairs, and when he came back down with his suitcase she was nowhere to be seen. Max cursed under his breath and left.

He had no true destination in mind. The hospital was already closed off in his mind and he would not impose upon the family in his apartment, they had been through enough. So he let himself get utterly and hopelessly lost, until deep into the Citadel’s evening when his feet began to protest the walking so sharply that he had to stop. Thus he found himself at a vista, staring dismally at the stars outside.

"God, what else do I not know about my own child?" he muttered aloud. "She’s thirty-three and I don’t even know what her favorite color is. How did I let this happen?"

Even as he said it, he knew the answer. He’d walked away, giving her a half-explanation. He hadn’t made the full effort to be involved with her life, he’d given up. She’d been so angry back then, angry at him. That hurt.

And instead of trying to mend the hurt, he’d left entirely and let it fester. He buried his face in his good hand, voice cracking. “You’re a damn fool, Maxwell.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Eventually he gave up on that, turning away from the view to look back toward where he’d come from. He could walk away, again, and nothing would change. Or he could go back and actually try. If it wasn’t too late.

"Please don’t let it be too late," he whispered and started forward.

Max returned to the apartment with a new coffee maker tucked awkwardly under his good arm and trying to put together words for an apology. Assuming Anahira would let him past the door, or even listen to him. The knots in his gut tightened and he had to force himself to continue down the hallway.

The door allowed him entry, though his daughter was still absent. Someone had cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, Max assumed it was her. He set the box on the counter and opened it, pausing when he realized he would have to somehow lift it out of the box with one hand. He doubted that would work, and looked around for a knife or scissors to cut it open.

"Forget something?"

He jumped with a yelp and snapped around, stumbling slightly. “Anahira! God, you scared me.”

She watched him cautiously as he caught his breath. “Why are you here?”

"Well, I…" Max cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I’ve been a poor house-guest so far, I-I blew up your coffee maker and I was disrespectful and…"

His practiced apology trailed off as the shame welled up in his gut again. He hung his head, eyes closing. “You are right. I have no right trying to involve myself in your life after I willfully walked out.” Taking a breath, he lifted his gaze to meet hers once again. “I…I regret it, for what it’s worth. The single worst decision of my life, and I am sorry it took me this long to own up to it.”

The silence that settled in then seemed to drag on forever. She didn’t break it, simply staring at him, expression somehow both suspicious and hopeful. Max waited patiently for her to decide what his apology was worth. Whatever her decision, he would respect it.

"…Remember I didn’t exactly give you much of a chance," she finally said, voice oddly quiet.

Max smiled wistfully. “You were angry. I’d certainly given you enough reason to be. But I could have kept trying and I didn’t. The blame rests on me.”

Anahira looked away then, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She seemed uncertain, even anxious. Quite the difference to the apathetic air she’d carried the day before.

"Bed’s still there," she mentioned with an attempt at a casual tone. "If you want it."

He let out a long breath as his anxiety ebbed. So she wouldn’t throw him out. Maybe they could figure out how to communicate. “Thank you.”

She nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “It’s…it’s late. Should get some sleep.”

He obediently turned and walked to the entryway, pausing there when he remembered his manners. “Good night, Anahira.”

Anahira gave him that look again, the strange mix of caution and hope, and simply nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

Hira didn’t sleep well alone, a tested fact. Instead of being frustrated at waking in the early hours of morning, she opted to be grateful for a dreamless three hours. So she sat in the middle of her bed and worked, filing reports on her omnitool and fine-tuning her cloak. It was more busywork than anything, something to pass the time and distract her mind. It didn’t entirely work, as usual; concerns and problems drifted in and she addressed them each in turn.

The Reapers she pushed aside, a massive puzzle made of smaller ones. The volus she’d met with twice now and might have to meet again today if the Council deemed it necessary. Politics. She pulled a face.

Minor concerns were easily put to rest, while ones with no clear answer she set aside until more information could be gained. And then the smell of breakfast pulled her back to the present and a more personal concern: Max.

She shut off her omnitool and scratched her scalp. She hadn’t expected him to come back after their fight. In her experience when people left a room angry it would be a while before she saw them again. In the case of Max, she was never sure when she’d run into him next.

But he’d come back. And he’d apologized. For all of it.

The hell was she supposed to do with that?

She’d gone most of her life resenting him. A part of her still did, but she wanted to talk to him more than she wanted to continue hating him.

_But what if we start talking and he leaves again?_

She dropped her face into her hands. With the war going on she didn’t even have time to work this out. After the war wasn’t much of an option either, however.

Her terminal pinged and she leaned over to open the new message. The volus were finally on board. One problem off her mind at least. She looked at the door, sighed, and got up to dress and go downstairs. Time to face the personal one.

 _Just…talk to him,_ she told herself as she descended the stairs. _See what happens._

_Yeah. Great plan._

Max glanced up from the stove-top as she entered. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” She glanced around the kitchen. Bacon cooling on a rack, the new coffee machine had been installed, and Max now stirred a bubbling pot of oatmeal. Impressive for someone with one hand out of commission.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Milk and a bit of hazelnut syrup, it’s next to the machine.” She accepted the mug he gave her with a mutter of thanks. “Surprised you can cook with one hand.”

“I’ve had plenty of practice at it,” Max said, a smile coming to his face. “When you were little, I’d hold you in this arm while I was cooking. You never liked being on the floor, you wanted to be up high with the people where you could see everything.”

“Really.”

“Oh yes. You were not happy when you got too big to carry, until you learned how to climb. Then we were really in trouble.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ah, could you cut the fruit? That’s one trick I never managed.”

She set down her mug beside the cutting board and picked up a knife, holding it so the light couldn’t reflect off the metal. Slowly she pried her tongue from where anxiety had glued it down. _Talk. Just talk._ “…Remember that time we experimented with oatmeal?”

He laughed hard. “Oh, yes! We made quite the mess, didn’t we? I don’t think we ever got all the molasses streaks off the walls.”

“Wasn’t there a line of cane syrup right across the fridge?” she asked, tone dry.

“Yes, but you could only see it in a certain light,” Max replied airily.

She smirked. “Whose idea was the orange juice again?”

“I think that was mine.”

“That was terrible.”

“It was, ugh!” He went back to stirring, still laughing. He quickly paused again as his mirth faded. “God, that was a long time ago. Feel like I turned around and the little girl with blond curls turned into a grown woman taking on the galaxy.”

Hira bit her tongue and stamped down on the hurt in her gut. She wondered if he saw it in her face, because his expression turned regretful and he turned back to the oatmeal. She went back to cutting fruit, an awkward silence hovering between them.

“…I remember the first time you told me to cut your hair,” Max said after a few moments.

Hira raised a brow. “Told?”

“Oh, yes, you were adamant about it. I’m certain you would have done it yourself if I hadn’t.” He paused again as another meaning to his words settled in. “I…I imagine you did, after I left.”

She nodded slowly. “Marines helped sometimes, till I figured it out.” She rubbed at the bridge of her nose absently, swallowing her nerves. “You, ah, didn’t miss much. Just me getting into a lot of fights. Skipping classes, hacking my way to a diploma.”

"I think I missed everything, actually," he mused quietly, tone sorrowful. Then he frowned. "Wait, hacking?"

She nodded. He snorted, flabbergasted. “Why?”

"Wouldn’t’ve passed if I hadn’t. Lit teacher had it in for me."

"You weren’t a model student then?" She shook her head solemnly and he laughed. "I did miss everything! Damn."

She smirked and poured the fruit into a bowl as he dolled out the oatmeal, quickly rummaging through a cupboard as she set places at the counter. “What are you doing?” she asked absently.

"One moment…ah." He turned and set two jars on the counter. "Molasses and cane syrup."

Hira snorted and shook her head.

"Anahira."

"What?"

"You have strawberry juice on your nose."

She frowned and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

"Oh, now you’re just spreading it around." Max grabbed a towel, dampening the end in the sink. She frowned and took a step back when he started dabbing at her nose. "Hold still, Anahira."

"Can clean my own face, thanks."

"Yes, but you can’t see what’s on the end of your nose."

"I’m not ten, Max." She tugged the towel from his hand and roughly swiped at her nose. Once finished, she threw the towel at his face.

"That was unnecessary."

She hummed as she sat down. “I disagree.”

He frowned and took a seat. “Are you always such an ass?”

She nodded. “Been told you get used to it.”

"Perhaps I will at that," he mused, smiling.

Hira gave a small smile in return and tucked into breakfast. Two bites in her terminal pinged.

"Work?" Max asked.

"Probably." She got up and went to the study, scanning the message quickly. Meet with the asari councilor as soon as possible.

Hira sighed as she walked back and found Max reading something on his omnitool. “Problem?”

"No, the hospital. Reminding me of my appointment later today to see how the arm’s coming. If all’s well I can get the cast off and go back to work. You?"

"Urgent meeting." She poured what was left of her coffee into a to-go cup and picked up the bowl of oatmeal.

Max watched, shifting anxiously. “Well, I will, ah, pack up my things and…let you know how it goes?”

She paused and nodded. “Yeah. Do. Apartment’s still here if you need it, disabled most of the explosives.”

He smiled. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“Not as much as I expected,” she admitted after a moment. “I’ll, uh, see you later I guess.”

Max nodded and she left the kitchen, feeling rather awkward. Still, the morning could’ve been worse.

"Oh, Anahira!"

She stopped at the door and turned to Max. “Yeah?”

"Sorry to hold you up, but just a couple more things. First of all, um," Max paused, rubbing his neck. "What’s your favorite color."

She tilted her head, brow raised. “Blue. What’s the other thing.”

“Ah, be…be safe, alright?” he asked softly, gaze filled with worry.

Hira blinked, surprised, then nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

He nodded and waved and she left.

Later, when she’d returned to the Normandy and had Joker set a course, she found a new message on her terminal.

      To: cmdr-ashepard@normandy.sysalliance.exnet  
      From: max_shepard@citadel.exnet  
      Sub: Update

      First of all, it’s a lot easier to type with both hands. My hospital appointment went well and I can get back to work as soon as my shuttle      returns. I hope all is well with you.

      I thought in lieu of talking face to face we could send mail back and forth? I can tell you about my work and whatever else you’d like to      know and you can tell me…whatever you’d like to, I suppose. Or nothing at all, it’s entirely up to you.

      Max

It didn’t take her nearly as long to answer this time.

      To: max_shepard@citadel.net  
      From: cmdrashepard@alliance.net  
      Sub: RE: Update

      Sounds good to me.

      You first. How’s your day?

      Hira


End file.
